Scarlet Redemption
by Hanthar
Summary: The Scarlet Crusade's first disastrous expedition to Northrend...
1. Chapter 1

For Commander Orman, sleep continued to evade him.

In the cabin of the Scarlet flagship Light's Fury, he lay on his cot, attempting to rest. He tossed and turned, mumbling and flailing around wildly as his attempts continued to fail him. Sighing, he sat up and sat on his bed, head on his hand as he rubbed his eyes irritatedly, with the rocking of the ship doing nothing to aid his efforts to sleep. Standing up from his bed now, he walked over to his desk where the tabard of his organization, the Scarlet Crusade, lay on the chair, neatly pressed and folded. Picking it up, he placed it over his armor and admired it in the mirror. The tabard was red and white, and had a flame covering most of the chest part. The Scarlet Crusade was a religious military organization dedicated to the liberation of Orman's home of Lordaeron, which had been consumed by the Scourge over a year ago. The Scourge was no ordinary organization - it's armies consisted of the dead. Civilians and soldiers raised after their deaths by necromancy fueled this terrifying war machine forward. Lead by their dark lord The Lich King, the Scourge had established their unholy control all across Lordaeron. What added insult to injury for the majority of the survivors was that the Lich King was once the Prince of Lordaeron Arthas Menethil. The Crusade was formed after the collapse of the government of Lordaeron and pledged the destruction of the Scourge. Now, the Ashbringer, leader of the Crusade, had appointed Captain-General Orman as military commander of a fleet, consisting of ten ships, that would sail to the Scourge's dark contient of Northrend and accomplish what thousands before them could not - the destruction of the Lich King and the liberation of Lordaeron.

Leaving his cabin caused the two sentries guarding the door to clasp their feet together in salute. Orman nodded and continued around the ship. The crewmembers of the Light's Fury were scurrying about, performing their duties. Sailors hosting supplies, swabbies cleaning the decks, cannoneers angling and setting up their cannons and soldiers patrolling the decks. As he passed by them, many of the crew saluted or otherwise payed respects to him as they walked. Orman returned their affections with a smile and a nod. Orman cared for all of his soldiers, as he considered them like family - all he had left after the destruction of Lordaeron. He had trained with many of them, laughed, shared victories and defeats - he was their commander, but more importantly, he wanted to be their support line. Striding to a staircase that lead up to the main deck, he stopped and looked around. "We will be victorious in Northrend. The Light will see us through" he said to no one in particular. Stepping up to the main deck, Orman felt the chill of the Northern winds hit him in the face much like the slap of a jilted lover. On the exposed deck of the ship, more sailors rushed around doing their duties. Cannons were covered with a tarp on this deck in order to prevent rusting. After two months of travel, the fleet of ten ships was stopped off the coast of Northrend in order to make fleet preparations. Walking over to the wheel, he stopped and spoke to the navigator, Renthran was a high elf, a member of a race who's home had also been destroyed by the Scourge and also had been admitted into the Crusade. Shivering as he walked over, his bald head attracting most of the cold, he nodded to him. "Renthran. How is the navigation now?"

Sighing, Renthran faced Orman, piercing blue eyes shining in the mid-morning and began, "Well sir, the ice is not as thick as we expected at this time of year. It seems that it has thawed considerably."

Nodding, Orman looked around - the ocean was indeed much less thick as initial predictions. Beside them was a massive iceberg that towered over the ships. Grasping a spyglass that lay on a navigational table, Orman opened it up and peered toward the Northrend coast.

The coast was eclipsed with snow, and the wind seemed to be pushing the snow toward the land. He could see large trees on the coast that seemed to appear like small blotches. Also, Orman swore he could see scattered hulks of shipwrecks at the limits of the spyglass, but he could not be sure. Closing the spyglass, Orman suddenly found himself standing beside a dwarf - Sergeant Hanthar Rockfist. Rockfist was one of a few Dwarven immigrants that arrived in Lordaeron before the Plague struck, and he was one of Orman's best warriors, responsible for training the Crusade's riflemen. "Ah! Sergeant, there you are." Orman shviered now, the cold wind whipping up stronger, howling almost like the cry of wolves.

"Aye, general! Wot kin I do fer yeh?" Rockfist's beard was large and red, characteristic of most of the Bronzebeard Clan of dwarves. He was covered in snow, flakes gently covering the top of his head and his shoulders.

"How are the training regimens of the marines going?" Orman inquired while he was shivering, wrapping the small scarf around his neck tighter as the cold intensified.

Rockfist grinned and chuckled. "Oh, well...They've go' the basics and a healthy fear o'the Light curtsey of the priests! We're almos' ready t'go!"

Smiling, Orman nodded approvingly. A fear of the Light, Orman believed, would help the troops fight on. "Good. We must be ready - all and all, the Scourge have the major advantage in numbers. We, however, have the Light...and determination that the foul beasts do not."

Nodding, Rockfist grinned and clapped his hands together once. "Aye! We go' th' best lads on our side..th' Scourge've got nothin' bu' their foul necromancy tha'll be done in easily!"

Nodding, Orman sighed and looked around the seas. The other ships floated behind the Light's Fury, flying the Scarlet colors and staying in a defensive formation. All of the ships had battle-tested, well-trained crews that Orman knew would be just right for this operation. "Now...where is the Admiral?" Orman inquired to Rockfist. "The Admiral" in this case was Barean Westwind, appointed by the Ashbringer to head the naval aspects of this operation. Westwind was a seasoned naval officer, serving for many years in his home nation of Kul Tiras before joining the Crusade; his leadership had been instrumental in securing old Loraderonian fleet ships and appropriating them for use in the Crusade. Orman could think of no one better to lead the navy in an operation such as this.

Rockfist shrugged. "Dunnae. 'Aven't seen 'im since last nigh' when he went t'the mess."

Westwind was much more of a hands-on leader then Orman, something Orman considered his own personal failing; Twice a week for the last two months since the fleet set out from New Avalon, Westwind would dine with the sailors, eating the same rations they did. It had earned him much respect with his men. "What about you, Rentharan? Have you seen him?"

Shrugging, Renthran looked to Orman before answering, "No, sir. I would try his study. He spends a large amount of time there. Either that or the chapel." Each ship, as per Crusade regulations, was equipped with a chapel, for all soldiers to worship.

Nodding, Orman prepared to set out to the chapel. Turning to Rockfist, he spoke. "Sergeant, I want you to keep the training up at the pace it is at now. We must be at peak efficiency before we make landfall." Nodding, Rockfist saluted Orman, who returned it. "Light be with you, gentlemen." he exclaimed, before heading back to the lower decks.

Walking through the mid-ship deck, Orman entered the chapel. The chapel was in a room that was formerly used by the ship, in its day in the Lordaeron navy, as a recreation centre. Now it was converted into a full-use chapel: the altar to the Light was a massive affair in the room, with candles being lit at all times on the altar, and to the midle was the symbol of the Church of the Light, adorned with gold and shining like the Light itself. Carpeting with the Light symbol was affixed to the floors, and banners of the Church of the Holy Light* were on the wall. All-in-all, the room was a pleasant sight for most of the men, including Orman. He was not a spiritual person before the coming of the Scourge, but like many came to see the Light as a wonderful thing after the destruction of Lordaeron. To Orman, secularism and lapsation into sloth was part of the sins of the people that had caused the destruction of their kingdom. Of course, even on a ship crewed by the most holy, some would commit unholy sins, and as such, a confession booth was provided off to the right of the altar. Orman felt the need for confession and, seeing no sign of Admiral Westwind, stepped into the booth. Sitting in the small chair provided, he rapped his knuckles on the screen.

Promptly, the screen opened to reveal one of the many ship friars sitting on the other side, red headband ready and robes polished for service. "Yes, Commander? Have you come to confess your sins?" Orman nodded solemnly. "It is always good to know that even in a time of urgency such as this, that you have not forgotten the need for confession."

Orman nodded once more, before he spoke. "Yes, friar. I have sinned...I have had violent thoughts and my mind was consumed with hatred for most of this journey. It has clouded my judgement many times." Orman was known amongst the sailors as having a strong temper; his many faults that he blamed himself for included punching a sailor in the face who had failed to tie a tack-line the right way. Nodding, the friar sat in thought a moment before speaking.

"Hatred is a normal emotion, sir. But you have, as you have said, let it cloud your judgment. It is a common sin, that the Light can easily forgive; for we have a hard mission ahead of us. But know this, General - we cannot always blame outside factors for our own faults. Sometimes the faults lay with ourselves...and we must accept that at times."

Nodding, Orman knew the Friar was absolutely right; he had always blamed the mission or others in the past, but in his heart, he knew it was all his doing. "What can I do to make things right, friar?" Orman asked, consumed with regret.

"A simple tithe will satisfy the Light's love for you, sir."

Nodding, Orman reached into his pocket and pulled out three pieces of silver; tithes for absolution of sins was a common practice, one that had been happening since the Church's near-destruction at the hands of the Scourge. Placing the money in the small tin the friar had slid over, he bowed in respect. The friar then nodded and smiled.

"Know now thou ist forgiven in the name of the Most Holy Light. Amen."

Smiling, Orman stood up and thanked the man before leaving the confession feeling almost as if a great weight had been lifted from his soul.

Continuing on down the corridor, Orman came to the Admiral's cabin. Westwind had chosen a cabin on the mid-deck much like Orman, but unlike Orman, his cabin was both smaller and unguarded. Westwind trusted the crew of this ship with his life, and they, in turn, trusted their lives to him. Rapping on the door with his knuckle, a voice beckoned him to enter. Orman turned the handle of the door and entered. Westwind's cabin was simply one room, with a bed, a desk, a chair, armoire, and many books. Westwind sat at his desk recording presumably more journal logs. He was an avid record-keeper, and Orman could not help but admire the man for that.

Westwind looked up from his desk and nodded. "Ah! Orman..there you are!" Barean Westwind was older then Orman, and it did show; his wrinkled face was testament to it. Hair grew off to the sides of his head, but not at the top - he was bald much like Orman. He had, however, a fatherly warmth to him. While strict and almost authoritarian during duty, when he was not on duty he treated his crew like family.

Orman bowed slightly out of respect and spoke. "I was hoping to talk to you about the fleet preparations, Admiral."

Nodding, Westwind offered him a seat, pulling out another chair from the corner of the room. Orman nodded and sat down. "What is it you wanted to discuss about it?" On Westwind's desk were naval maps, navigational charts, and the like - his journal was off to the side. Orman sighed and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Sir, we need to make preparations for when we do make landfall. It seems that so far, no plans have been made. Correct me if I am wrong, but...is that the case?"

Westwind placed his navigational compass down and sighed before nodding. "You're right, General. We haven't made many plans for it...it seems that I was expected to come up with them myself at the drop of a hat." Orman detected bitter frustration in his voice as the Admiral spoke, "I wish that I could have had an advisory team help me with this, but...the only one who seems to be offering me help is Captain Jeffcoat." Christoph Jeffcoat was captain of the Light's Fury, and the man that was considered, due to his position, as Westwind's second.

Orman sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are serious? Well...I would like to help you, Admiral. We must work together on this if we're to come out on top, even with the Light's Grace. How about supper?"

Westwind nodded, patting his desk with his left hand. "Very good. Who else would you like to be there? I'd like to bring Captain Jeffcoat, if you don't mind."

Nodding, Orman waved his hand. "That's fine..I want Sergeant Rockfist and Invar there." Invar, also known as Invar-One Arm, was the Chief Assassin of the Scarlet Crusade and a man that Orman knew very well. He was very eccentric and reserved, but was a ferocious fighter and was credited with making many blows against the Scourge back home in Lordaeron. He had lost his arm in the Second War, but was still credited with the deaths of several Scourge sub-commanders even with his disability.

Nodding, Westwind put down his compass and faced Orman. "Of course. I'll see you all tonight, then?"

Orman nodded and stood up. After standing up, he saluted Westwind, who returned it. "Light be with you, Admiral."

Smiling, Westwind nodded and patted Orman's hand. "And you, General."

Orman stepped out of the cabin and closed the door behind him. Setting out toward the lower decks, he suddenly paused at a corridor leading to the stairs to the lower deck. A figure was moving around in the shadows of a storage door. Peering curiously into the darkness, he was surprised as a voice spoke up behind him.

"Orman. Glad I finally found you."

Startled, Orman jumped up, spinning around like a whirling sandstorm. "Invar! May I humbly request that you do not sneak up on me like that again." Invar was roughly the same height as Orman, but was much skinnier. His left arm was missing, and he used his undershirt to cover the stump. His face was clean of hair, but several scars ran across parts of his otherwise unblemished face. His hair was pulled back into a small bun that was unkempt and messy. His blade Serilias, a longsword that glowed purple, was sheathed at his side. Little was known about Invar's past beyond what he chose to volunteer. He had claimed service in several pirate organizations until he was saved by the Light, and had fought for the Crusade since. Feared and respected by his peers and superiors alike, Invar was a valuable asset on any mission. He was also known as very unorthodox and nonconformist; he refused to salute, wear a uniform, attend meetings, or even wear the Crusade's tabard.

Invar broke into a harsh laugh, grasping at Orman's arm with his right hand. "And why not, Orman? You know as well as I do that a little humor can diffuse a tense situation."

Sighing, Orman could not help but muster a small smile. "Well..I suppose you're right. I was hoping to find you, anyway. Admiral Westwind is having a dinner, and you're going to be there."

Blinking in surprise, Invar laughed again. "That's priceless! What did you have t'tell him to get me to show up? I am honestly curious at this one, Orman." Invar reclined against the bulkhead as Orman spoke.

"All I had to say to him was that I wanted you there. You're a valuable asset to the Crusade and more importantly, to me." Invar and Orman were close, as Invar did not see eye-to-eye with many of the Crusade leaders due to his unorthodox quirks.

Invar nodded thoughtfully before looking out toward the storage room door. "Well, I'd be glad to show up. Light wants me there, Light will have me there." Invar walked toward the stairs leading to the upper deck, and was joined by Orman.

"Tell me something though, Invar" he began, "What drives you to act the way you do? You know that the priests whisper that you are acting against the Light...you do not want to risk your soul, do you?"

Invar laughed harshly as the duo trudged up the stairs. "My friend" he started, "The Light doesn't care about how we dress. It cares about our actions. The Light drives me, just as strongly it does for you. We in the Crusade share the same goals - the destruction of those that destroyed our homelands. It should not matter about what we say, do, or act - all that matters is that we have devotion to the Light in our own ways, and that we have a burning desire to destroy the Scourge. You know that I have both." Reaching the top of the stairs, the duo prepared to part, Orman heading toward his cabin while Invar headed toward the mess.

Before they departed, Orman spoke. "Keep at it, Invar. I feel that everything will work out - The Light will see us through. Before long we will be at the gates of Icecrown and the Lich King will lay dead at our feet, as we hold his head in triumph and show the Scourge that the power of the Light can overcome all!"

Invar grinned before the two departed. Orman could not help but think, as he walked toward the sentries near his cabin, that things would work out, and that victory was theirs - because the Light willed it.

"As I've said, gentlemen - Command did not give me any word of a fleet plan for landfall. I was expected to come up with it on my own, it seems." Westwind spoke, just after putting his glass of wine down. Westwind, Orman, Invar and Rockfist were dining in Westwind's cabin to discuss fleet matters; Captain Jeffcoat could not attend due to fleet exercises. The men nodded at Westwind's revelation before Rockfist spoke, placing the chicken that he held in his hand down.

"Ye say tha' no one gave yeh plans fer it, Admiral? Bu' wot 'bout the Ashbringer? Surely 'e musta said somethin'."

Shaking his head, Westwind sighed. "Not a word. I know that he was busy, however, in the preparations for attack upon Stratholme."

Invar chuckled at this, placing his goblet down. "Face it, Rockfist - they either did not have time for us, or they wanted us to fail. One or the other."

Rockfist growled and pointed a stout finger accusingly at Invar from across the table. "Dunnae say tha', lad! Jes' cos yeh haven't got any faith in our leaders, dunnae try t'sway this table into yer treason!" Orman sighed; his head was hurting already; in the less then half-hour period since dinner began due to all of the bickering, accusations had been flung about; Invar had no faith in the Crusade's leaders, accusing them of purposely sending the expedition off without proper information, while Rockfist accused Invar of treason and attempting to divide the fleet against each other.

It was Orman who spoke now, raising his head up past his meal and staring at both combatants. "Enough!" he pounded the table, dishes and silverware rattling, making all three men sit up in startled attention. "We continue to fight about the what ifs, and not discussing at all the plans for landfall! We should work on that now, and fight later, gentlemen. The Light guides all of our hands, but that doesn't give us the right to slap the hands of others."

Nodding in agreement, the men fell silent. After several minutes of quiet interrupted only by the sounds of eating, Westwind felt confident enough to open his mouth. "I agree with Orman. We need to stop these bickerings and focus on our plans for landfall. I suggest that we should not deploy the fleet to shore all at once - it could be very dangerous and leave our flanks open to a sea attack."

Scoffing, Rockfist chuckled, bits of chicken hanging off his mouth. "Tha's not gunnae happen and I'll tell ye why: Th' Scourge have got no ships. They've go' no undead shite that kin attack from th' sea. What we should do is deploy everythin' an' make our push t'wards Icecrown right off the bat. Tha' way we kin take 'em by surprise and wipe em out without 'em even knowing wot hit 'em!" Slamming his fist down onto the table for emphasis, Rockfist smirked triumphantly.

Again, Invar spoke next, still laughing. "How wrong you are, dwarf. You know as well as I that while the Scourge lack naval capabilities, they do have air based capabilities, which we do not. They could take out our fleets using their gargoyles easily, if we just park it all on shore. Leaving most of our ships off the coast will allow them to shoot down any aerial support the fiends get." Orman had to agree with Invar; the Scourge possessed massive numbers of gargoyles, beasts that flew in the air and would pluck people from the ground, eviscerate or decapitate them, and drop the bodies down onto others like morbid projectiles.

"We cannot just deploy everything on a whim, Rockfist." Orman began "We need to be cautious about landfall. Even still - we have no idea where we plan to land!"

Rockfist scowled darkly, but nodded solemnly. "Aye, Orman - I kin say tha' yer righ'. Bu' we still kinnae give in t'Invar an' his treason - th' Light speaks through our leaders back at Avalon. We kinnae say tha' they dun't care. " Nodding, Orman had to agree; to be divided on an issue now is possibly the worst thing that could happen.

Westwind spoke up now, filling his goblet with wine. "Then what do you propose, gentlemen? We must act, now - landfall is less then a day away."

Orman stood up at this, put down his glass, and spoke. "What we should do is this..."

"I...will...break...you.."

The voices in Orman's head continued to resonate as he lay in his cabin, tossing and turning in the futile act of troubled sleep. Orman's nightmares had plagued him since the expedition set out from New Avalon and had denied him many nights of rest. This night, they seemed to be intensified. His dream was one of chaos and death; he stood in a city that he recognized as Lordaeron's former capital, which was aflame and full of dead bodies. Skeletal soldiers of the Scourge surrounded him, glaring and growling with malevolent ferocity. Orman stood with his sword broken at his side and blood caking his head. He was weakened and slouched over. The fires raged all around him, roaring as if tempting him to jump. "You...will..die. Like...all...of...the...others." The voice returned again. Orman grasped his sword tighter as the mob of Scourge surrounded him more and more, the eyes and soulless stares of the figures looked ready to penetrate his very soul. And, like the other dreams before him, Orman charged into the mass, but just as he reached them, the dream shifted; Orman was in a cage now, suspended over a pit of swirling darkness. Screams and moans echoed from it, and shadowy hands reached up in an attempt to pull Orman down. On all sides of the cage were bones and skulls, and Orman shook the cage futility, trying to escape. The pool of darkness rose and rose until it was just below him. The hands batted at the cage now, but they too could not break it. Just then, the Lich King appeared above the cage, standing on a ledge that the cage was suspended from.

"All will serve me in the end, human. Come...the mightiest champions of Lordaeron have fallen at my feet. Frostmourne hungers!"

Blackness took Orman's dream now, as an echoing scream began in his head. Soon the lone scream was joined by another, then another, until in no time it sounded like a twisted chorus of screaming. Just as the voices grew, Orman shot awake, tumbling out of his bed.

Groaning in pain, he grasped his head and stood up slowly, shaking the covers that had fallen with him off his body. "Light save me...these nightmares are getting worse." Returning to his bed, he lay back down and attempted to return to sleep, but just as his eyes closed, a loud knock came at his door. "What is it?" Orman sighed sleepily.

Opening the door was Admiral Westwind, who came in and stood by the entrance. "Oh, Admiral...What is it?" Orman responded, eyes being caked with wrinkles and dark spots indicating a lack of sleep.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Orman, but I thought you might want to know - we've arrived."

Blinking in surprise, Orman jumped to his feet and grasped his cloak, throwing it over him. He and Westwind departed the cabin, sentries saluting as they parted. Silence was their only companion as they trudged toward the entrance of the upper deck. Around them, sailors and soldiers scurried to and fro, attempting to make the ship ready for landfall. Bells chimed as officers rushed with their soldiers, opening up compartments and grasping rifles and all sorts of other weaponry to prepare for the landfall. Reaching the entrance of the upper deck, the two men walked up the stairs and stepped onto the deck. Most of the sailors were clustered at the bow of the ship, staring out to the shore. Westwind and Orman walked over to the other side of the ship, staring out over the ocean toward the shore. The coast was more visible now then when Orman spied it days ago. Crystal clear snow glistened in the sunlight as more of it sprinkled down to join the ever-growing piles of it on the land. Shipwrecks dotted the landscape, and scattered ruined buildings dotted the grey shore that the fleet approached. Trees grew everywhere except the beach, and the trees formed a canopy overlooking the beach, almost like fingers trying to embrace a baby. The clouds were grey and stormy, as snow fell onto the ships now. Westwind and Orman stared in awe, snow falling onto their uniforms in a steady stream now. After several minutes, it was Orman who finally spoke up as the wind rustled his tabard and the ship.

"Arthas...we're coming for you."

END OF PART ONE


	2. Chapter 2

**Orman lay in his tent now, studying the maps and various fleet plans that were laid out before him. The Crusade had made landfall upon Northrend roughly ten days ago, at a beachhead that was full of destroyed ships, abandoned half-built houses, and other things that indicated that this was perhaps the site of Arthas's first expedition. Crusade masons had quickly begun work on building up fortifications and accomodations for the troops. Within the ten days, the masons had built up a small wall that ran all around the beachhead, and reinforced it with sharpened steaks that stuck out of the ground, harvested from the abundance of trees nearby. Orman had ordered no cannons be brought out for the time being, and instead, the defence was lead by Sergeant Rockfist, who commanded a corps of riflemen who would guard the perimeter at all times. Admiral Westwind was not on shore, however; he remained aboard the **_**Light's Fury**_** to ensure that all naval operations flowed smoothly. Orman was tired; he had been reading the reports and maps for over three hours, all of which simply told tales he knew: soldiers sent out had found large amounts of lumber, and hardly any sign of Scourge forces. Deciding he needed a break now, Orman left his tent and walked down into the main encampment. **

**There, Sergeant Rockfist was training some marksmen, using large rocks as targets. Orman watched idly, as the cold Northrend wind blew over the camp once more. Rockfist's soldiers were firing in unison as Rockfist barked orders at them. "Alrigh' lads. Take a break.." Rockfist walked over to Orman and nodded to him. **

**Orman returned the nod and began, "Sergeant. How goes training?"**

**Rockfist grinned and thumbed back at the trainees. "They're a good bunch, bu' I dunnae 'bout th' rest. Rest assured tho', Orman, we'll have a good defence 'afore you know it." **

**Orman sighed, shivering as the wind blew across his face. "What about the outward patrols? Any sightings?" **

**Shaking his head, Rockfist sighed as he shivered himself. "Blasted cold...An' no, sir. They said there be nothin' t'see except snow, critters an' trees." **

**Orman sighed, motiong Rockfist to follow him as he walked. Rockfist trailed beside him as they walked through camp, passing soldiers and masons alike. "Something doesn't seem right here, Rockfist...I cannot shake the feeling that we're being watched, or that Arthas is testing us." **

**Scowling, Rockfist nodded, "Aye. I feel it too, sir. Jus' dinnae want t'worry you." **

**Orman waved his hand dismisively as he walked. "No need. I'll wait for the next patrols to come back before I make any more conclusions." **

**Nodding, Rockfist looked toward the west side of the beachhead-camp, where the priests were ministering to a large group of soldiers. "I should go sit in on tha'. Haven' paid me respects in a while. What 'bout you, Orman?" **

**Shaking his head, Orman jestured to Rockfist. "You go ahead. I have to go find Invar...I need his opinion on this whole thing." Rockfist nodded and trudged off while Orman started off toward the south end of the encampment. **

**As he walked, Orman could only think to himself about his fear of this land. It began to snow now, the snow falling gently upon the encampment. Sighing, Orman pulled his red scarf up around his mouth, the fabric embracing him gently as the cold began to sting. Finding his way up a slight hill to a small tent that was isolated from the others, he stopped and began to look around. He knew Invar was somewhat of a loner; not many people trusted him, even here. But he was the best assassin the Crusade had, and Orman felt that the Light had something special in store for him when their mission was over. Finally, he spotted a figure along a remote area of the shoreline, staring out aimlessly into the seas. The figure only had one arm, so Orman knew it was him. **

**Approaching, Invar turned around fast, a grin upon his face. "Here we are, sir. You've gotten us here...now it's up to the Light to see us through to the end." **

**Startled, Orman jumped before settling down and nodding. "Aren't you cold, Invar?" **

**Shaking his head, Invar grinned, "Perhaps you Stromgardians aren't used to the cold as the rest of us!" **

**Sighing, he walked over to stand beside him upon the remote shoreline. "Something doesn't feel right here, Invar. I can't help but feel as if Arthas is testing us." **

**Nodding, Invar returned to look out at the seas. "He probably is. Think about it, Orman. If I was the Lich King and I wanted a threat gone, I would have sent out thousands of my unholy creatures after it. Yet, we've been here ten days and have yet to see anything more then elk!" **

**Orman sighed, wrapping the scarf around his neck tighter. "Aye. Patrols haven't found anything...I'm waiting for the next group to get back, and then I'm going out on patrol with them. I want you with me when we go." **

**Nodding, Invar patted Orman's plate shoulder. "As you say, sir. Serilas and I look foward to taking down some of these bastards when we find 'em. And what better way then to send out the leader of the expedition as bait, eh?" **

**Orman could not help but chuckle as the winds blew more fiercer, snow falling much more now then before. "Good thinking! The Light's blessed you with intellect as well as speed of blade." **

**Invar laughed, before turning away from the shore and walking toward his camp. "I'd get in shelter first, Orman...This snow looks like it's going to last a while!" **

**Nodding, Orman wrapped his scarf around his neck as tightly as he could before he trudged away across the beach, snow and wind whipping and rustling around him, his soldiers staggering around like rats looking for cheese in their desperate attempts to find cover. **

**Orman's nightmares were worse now that the fleet had made landfall. They increased in intensity, with the Lich King's dark cries seeming to echo through his tent at night. Orman lay awake once more, studying reports by candlelight. The last patrol had come back and had finally found something-a massive towering structure to the far north-west. They had seen it standing proudly in the blowing winds. From their observations, the structure looked ancient, seeming out of place with the unholy Scourge architecture that Orman and the others had seen back in Lordaeron. Curious, Orman read over the report again and again, trying to find something that could possibly link it to a Scourge structure, but he could not. "Well.." Orman mused, "Looks like Invar and I will be searching for an ancient structure. Perhaps we can find shelter, perhaps we can find allies..." Orman sighed and lay back down, once again attempting to find the luxury of a good night's sleep. **

**The gallop of horses echoed through the snow as the scouting party rode on. Orman, Invar, Sergeant Rockfist, and a small group of other soldiers had set out roughly two hours ago on their scouting mission. Orman constantly scanned the land for anything out of place, as did the others. Riding past the trees and associated foliage, they passed massive hilltops and snow-covered landscapes that would put to shame any of Lordaeron's winters. Orman sighed as the group rode on; it had been two hours and still, nothing out of the ordinary. The snow continued to blow steadily at them, making visibility much more difficult. The group continued to ride, with more and more snow-covered trees around them, embracing them like a canopy. Suddenly, the lead rider's horse stopped and whinnied, jumping up onto it's hind legs and almost throwing the man off the horse. The party halted, and Orman dismounted his horse and walked toward the source of the horse's tantrum. He found a massive ledge that dropped roughly thirty feet down. Scanning the bottom, Orman could see what appeared to be bones. Massive bones of some kind of large creature. "Light be with us.." he mouthed to himself as he scanned the group's current location. By that time, the others had dismounted and had fanned out to find a way down. **

**Invar, however, stood beside Orman, joining him in staring down at the massive bones. "Impressive! I did not know anything that big could exist.." **

**Orman sighed, looking and feeling quite nervous. "I don't know what's worse, Invar..the thousands of Scourge, or the thought that creatures this big could exist here! Whatever it is, I am sure it is not friendly...Light watch over us if we encounter one of-whatever it is." Nodding, Invar looked around, squinting much like the others due to the poor visibility. **

**Just then, Orman heard a voice; it was Rockfist. "Over 'ere! We've found a way down!" Invar and Orman both rushed toward Rockfists's voice, finding him and the other soldiers standing at a small path. "We found this. Should lead us down all th' way."**

**Orman looked down at the path. It was a small, narrow path that huged into the wall of the glacier, but indeed ran down about thirty feet, much like the drop. Nodding, Orman turned back to face the direction of the horses. "Good work, Rockfist. Now, let's get the horses and head down there." Nodding, the party returned to the horses and mounted up, trudging back to the path and galloping down.**

**Reaching the bottom, the party halted as they attempted to get their bearings. The snow had died down slightly, so visibility was much easier then it was standing at the top of the path. Orman and the group then trudged ahead, before Orman ordered them to halt. In front of them was a massive skull. Orman, astonished, motioned his horse around the side of the creature, with the others following him. Staring in wide-eyed wonder, he scanned it. The creature's skull was easily the size of four men standing on top of each other, and was the same size wide. Other bones jutted out from behind the skull, of what looked like rib bones, some covered in snow, while others seemed to be untouched. At the side of the rib bones was another set of bones, with what looked to be the remnants of a wing. **

**"Dragons.." Orman mouthed to himself in awe.**

**As a veteran of the deadly Second War, had seen the majestic creatures being used by the Orcish Horde as mounts of war. They had destroyed large amounts of Alliance fleets and soldiers during the Horde's campaigns. And now, to see one up close, even if dead, was an astonishing sight. **

**Invar rode up beside him, staring at it in awe also. "I did not think there were dragons in Northrend.."**

**Orman shook his head, "No...Neither did I. It's almost eerily beautiful, just laying here, covered in snow like that.." Overhead, Orman heard squaking and looked up to see large birds circling around the remains. Vultures, but not like any Orman had seen; these were much larger then the normal types of vultures found back in Lordaeron. "We better move on...those vultures seem hungry." **

**Nodding, the group trudged on, passing the bones of the creature, with each man looking in awe as they rode past. As the party rode past the bones, Orman could see more bones sticking out of the ground all around them. Wings, ribs, even half-buried skulls-but he chose to keep on riding.**

**After riding on for what seemed like an hour, the party heard massive, thundering crashes. Halting once more, Orman looked around anxiously, trying to find the source of the noise. The others in the group unsheathed their swords and took up a mounted combat stance. Orman, however, did not-he chose to simply continue looking around. Invar, who was now beside him, clutched Serilas, his trusted blade close, eyes darting about rapidly. Orman could practically feel the fear rushing off of him. Orman, however, held no fear-he knew the Light was still with them. As the thundering crashes got closer and closer, Orman readied himself for whatever was to come. Eventually, the crashes felt as if they were on top of the party, when a massive foot came stepping out of the fog. Orman commanded his horse to move back, which it did, in order to let whatever it was pass. Eventually, a mammoth came trudging out of the fog, idly followed by another one. Staring in astonishment, the party still looked suspicious as they passed by. The mammoths were about the size of three horses stacked on top one another, and their massive girth meant they could crush the party to death easily. However, aside from the lead mammoth giving the party a curious stare, they ignored them and kept on trudging. Sighing with relief, Orman motioned the party to him. **

**Invar sheathed his blade and sighed tensly. "That was close.." **

**Orman nodded in relief, wiping sweat from his head. "Aye...At least they're docile, or else we'd have a serious problem on our hands." **

**Nodding, Invar looked around; the fog was dissipating further, and the snow was faltering. Squinting toward the horizion, he suddenly hit Orman with his good hand on the arm. "Look!" **

**Orman sighed and peered in the direction that Invar was looking. He could see it now; the temple that had been described to him by the scouting patrols. It was massive, about the size of a mountain. The stones were smooth and shined from this distance, even in the snow. It was close, as well; the patrol was not far from it now. **

**Orman blinked in astonishment and motioned for his horse to face the patrol. "Gentlemen!" he began, "We have the structure in our sights. We must proceed there at all due haste. Who knows what we might find...Perhaps salvation? We can only try!" Facing his horse back toward the structure, Orman, followed closely by Invar and the rest of the party, galloped hard off into the snow towards the structure.**

**As the group approached the structure, Orman could see that the structure was indeed much larger then it appeared from their previous location. Stopping near the entrance-or, what Orman thought was an entrance- the party gazed up in awe at the size of the structure. The building was at least a hundred feet tall, with masive pillars of grey holding it up as it towered into the sky. The pillars were notched and etched with a strange language all the way up - whatever this place was, it must be ancient. At the peak of the tower, the party could see a large alcove that looked to be some kind of observation platform. Also, roughly halfway up the tower, mysterious floating orbs could be seen, their purpose unknown. As the group rode up to the entrance, they fould their way blocked by massive ledges that jutted upward. Stopping, Orman dismounted and walked over to the ledge, which was about Orman's size in height. Grasping onto the side of the ledge, he gave a grunt and used all of his strength to pull himself up to the top of the ledge. Grunting with pain as he went, he finally swung his legs over and lay down momentarily to recover his energy. Looking to his right, he saw another ledge that was roughly the same height. Sighing, he motioned to the others to approach, and they all did, attempting to scale the first ledge. All of them did, even Rockfist, who had to be helped up by another soldier. **

**Reaching the top of the stairs after several moments, due to the stairs reducing in height thus allowing the group to ascend faster, the group now stood at the head of a massive archway. The archway was well over a hundred feet tall, and shot up into the sky. Staring in awe, Orman and the party motioned forward, stepping into the structure. The structure was also large, but plain; a small, circular room was all that awaited them inside. Covered in snow up to the crusader's knees, the group waded through in a futile effort to find something. Sighing, Orman dug through the snow with his men, finding only more mysterious marble pillars holding up the circular room. **

"**Light blast it – there's nothing here but snow. Anything over there?" Orman called to the group at the other side.**

"**No sir! We can't find anything here." responded a crusader, having to yell due to the length of the circular room.**

"**Right, pack it in. We will gather our bearings and possibly return to camp." **

**The men gathered in the centre of the massive room, with Orman brushing snow off of his hands and uniform. Wet snow leaked into his armor, making Orman shiver with increased intensity. Orman sighed and spoke up as the last of the men made their way to the group. "What do you think?" **

**Invar was the first to speak up. "It's old...but, there seems to be nothing here. It's abandoned." **

**Orman nodded, motioning to the others. "I agree...it doesn't seem to be anything here. This place looks ancient. Anyhow, what do you say – let us get to camp. The Light is on our side." **

**Nodding, the men trudged back through the massive amount of snow, with Orman and Rockfist lagging behind. Orman looked around once more, snow whipping his face. Rockfist stood beside him. "You know, Rockfist.." Orman began, "I thought we would find something or someone here. Instead, we just find some kind of abandoned structure." he sighed dejectedly.**

**Rockfist shrugged and stared up at Orman. "Dunnae think o'the negatives, Commander. We know tha' someone's been resistin' the Scourge – tha's hope enough. If you ask me, sir, we're on th' verge of findin' help. "**

**Scowling now, Orman swung his arm out over the blowing snow. "What hope, Rockfist? We're alone, here on this Light-blasted contient. Lordaeron, our homes, our FAMILIES, are gone...There is no hope. We're here to win or die. And right now, it looks as if death is the most likely option." Pausing, he futily attempted to fight back tears. "We've lost everything, Rockfist. Lordaeron..our families...our livelihoods. All just – just taken from us in no time at all. How can we fight an enemy that strong?" He slumped his shoulders, tears flowly freely into the snow and wind. **

**Rockfist sighed and walked up to where Orman stood. He then promptly kicked him in the shin, which rewarded Rockfist with a cry. Looking up at Orman's bewildered face, he spoke. "Lad, do not say tha' we kin not win. Do NO' say that it is hopeless. Nothin' is hopeless. We have lost our families, aye – but we've survived. We've grown. We're a fightin' force th' Scourge will not see comin'." **

**Pausing, Rockfist's voice broke as he bit his lower lip, attempting to fight back tears of his own. "Sir, Lordaeron may've been lost. Maybe it wos our fault. I dunnae. But wot I do kno' is tha' we fight fer it, nonstop. Jus' cause it's been lost, doesn't mean it's gone forever. We kin an' will rebuild it. Nothin' will stand in our way, Sir. Th' Light be at our backs, our swords be sharp..." Rockfist pumped a fist into the air, shaking it defiantly in the blizzard engulfing them. "An' we have the belief tha' we will win. An thus, we will. Never stop believin', sir. I know yeh will lead us to victory."**

**Orman sighed, shaking his head almost as if to clear something that was not there. He closed his open fist and nodded. "You're right, Rockfist.." Smiling down at him, he clasped his hands together. "We might have lost everything...but with the Light on our side, we'll regain it in no time. Thank you, Sergeant – you've helped a lost soul find his way." Patting Rockfist on the head as he often did, he motioned for the duo to continue. **

**Rockfist smiled and nodded, and walked with Orman as they trudged out of the structure. "Fer Lordaeron." were the only words that he spoke as they dissapeared into the blizzard. **

**The party returned to camp shortly after sunset. Orman had dismounted his horse, leaving it at the makeshift stable constructed from the ruins of a house built before the expedition had arrived. He walked around camp now, looking at his soldiers; they had lost everything, much like he did, but they were united by their beliefs – the destruction of the Scourge, the reclamation of Lordaeron and Quel'thalas, and the restoration of the Holy Light as a driving force in society. Trudging along the tents and masonry being built, Orman paused and looked up at the sky. Stars glistened and faded in and out, dancing an almost beautiful melody for the men. Smiling, Orman felt at peace – the dancing of the stars seemingly mezmerized him and made his tension and growing fear dissipate for the time being. **

**After his pause, he walked over to a small fire pit that was being enjoyed by several crusaders, inlcuding Invar and Rockfist. Sitting down, he nodded at the group, who all returned his nods with one of their own. Removing his gauntlets, Orman set them down beside him and held his hands close to the fire, the heat embracing his hands like a beautiful, caressing touch. Smiling, he momentarily forgot where he was – he felt he was back home in Lordaeron with his family. The memories seemed so lost, so forgotten – but now, here they were. Even though they lasted only several seconds, they stuck with him as he reclined at the pit. **

**Rockfist sighed, pushing more wood into the fire. Shivering now, he rubbed his armored shoulders. "Bloody 'ell. Northrend nights kin get pretty cold, eh?" Nods of agreement came up from his fellow crusaders. Rockfist then turned to a priest, clad in the regalia of a chaplain in the Crusade, who was also pushing wood into the fire. "Tell me, chaplain" Rockfist begain, "D'you think our men're ready fer an attack? I mean, spiritually speakin'."**

**The priest nodded to the dwarf, teeth chattering as he spoke. "Yes, Sergeant. The Light guides our men with the thrusts of their swords and the shots of their rifles! They fear and live in awe of It, as we all should. The Light flows within us all, sir. We must fear It and respect It at the same time." The chaplain's teeth stopped chattering now, as he sighed with relief. "Any attack that comes upon this station will be repulsed. The Light what will win us the day. Mankind is flawed; The Light is all-knowing and Forever." Turning to face Invar, the chaplain scoffed with disproval. "You sin against the Light by not obeying the ones the Light annoints to do the Most Holy Work, assassin. You bring mockery and dishonor to the Light with your heretical ways." The chaplain finished, spitting out the last sentence in contempt. **

**Orman looked to Invar worringly, but Invar simply laughed heartily. "That's your humble opinion, priest. You say you speak through the Light, but the Light does not involve itself in our affairs as much as you think it does." Waving his remaining hand around, he continued. "Look at what we have built so far. We have built it – the flawed and imperfect humankind. The Light guides all of us, yes...but the Light does not fight our battles for us. We can call upon it, yes – but it will not simply smite our enemies down because we ask it to. If it did, this war would have been over a long time ago, gentlemen." He laughed once more, picking up a tankard of ale and taking a large sip. "Any attack made upon this place could go one of two ways.." he shook the tankard around menacingly. "One, we repell it due to force of will and Westwind actually managing to shoot. Two, we get overwhelmed and retreat with most of us being killed." Invar placed his tankard down, and unsheathed Serilas, holding it up in the moonlight that now bathed the encampment. "I know that whatever the option, Serilas and I look foward to some good old fashion killing." He laughed before facing Orman, ponting the blade at him. "What about you, Orman? You're quiet tonight – it's not like you." **

**Sighing, Orman forcibly brought himself back into the reality of the fire pit. Looking around a moment, he sighed, before tossing another piece of wood onto the fire, which responded by crackling louder. "All of these debates wear me down, gentlemen." he sighed, rubbing his head. "We all serve the Light. It shouldn't mean we're going to fight each other because we interpret it different ways. We should focus on the debates after we have slain the Lich King and restored order to Azeroth. Then we will be in a far better position to dictate the Light's Divine Will." He reclined back in his seat, exhailing a long breath. **

**The fire crackled and embers burst free of the wood, flying to all parts of the pit. The gathered crusaders fell silent as they simply sat and stared, the moonlight above providing them with companionship. To Orman, it was moments like this that gave him the feeling of unity and pride with the Crusaders under his command. Silent, fleeting moments like this were beautiful to him. It was at that moment he vowed to bring all of them home safely, stronger, and, most important of all:**

**Triumphant. **

"**To arms! The Scourge are upon us!" **

**The cry roused Orman from his tent the next morning almost instantly. Grasping his sword and cloak, he flung them on hastily and ran outside. Outside was even more chaotic; riflemen and soldiers were scrambling to the makeshift wall constructed near the exit of the shore. Sergeant Rockfist was already upon the wall, shouting and screaming for the riflemen. Most of them ran into place and lined up along the wall, rifles aimed toward the waves of Scourge marching toward them. Orman could not see them well, but from the distance, he could see creatures of all types, most of them familiar ones that had participated in the fall of Lordaeron; shuffiling zombies, hideous three-armed Abominations, gargoyles, skeletal warriors, and other massive creatures he did not recognize. **

**Rushing to the wall, he moved his way past the waves of riflemen lined up. Finding Rockfist, who was taking aim with his own rifle, Orman spoke, "Why didn't we see this coming? Our scouts reported no movement!" he cried, motioning toward the advancing hordes. At the same time, Orman grasped his scarf and pulled it up over his mouth; the wind was howling now, and snow was blowing in the direction of the camp.**

**Rockfist gave a frantic shrug and adjusted his rifle's primer. "I dunnae, sir! They seemed t'hve come out of nowhere!" All around Rockfist, three long waves of riflemen had lined up, one behind the other, and had taken aim at the advancing forces. Behind them stood five large rows of soldiers, some armed with shields, others with two handed weapons such as pikes. ****Also mixed in behind them were priests and magi, focusing and rallying the soldiers. Rockfist grasped at his ammunition pouch and threw a pellet into his rifle. "Sir! Th' soldiers are in position! We're ready to stop 'em dead!" **

**Nodding, Orman took up position beside Rockfist. The Scourge forces were now within range. With that, Orman raised up his plated right hand, high above his head, pointing into the sky. "Make ready!" he bellowed, which was followed by the frantic actions of riflemen, loading and clicking their primers into position. After several moments, Orman lowered his hand slightly to be level with his shoulder. "Take aim!" he cried, and the front row of the riflemen lowered their weapons to the advancing Scourge, while the remaining rows kept their rifles up in the air. Gulping, Orman viewed the forces; they were massive, and were groaning, moaning and roaring with primal fury. Licking his lips tensley, he knew that this was the first test of their expedition. With a primal cry of his own, Orman dropped his arm to his side and bellowed, "Fire!" **

**The first rank of riflemen fired in unison, powder and rifles crackling at once as if a musical event had just started. The first few ranks of Scourge attackers, consisting of zombies and skeletal warriors fell, dropping beneath the remaining forces, who trampled over them. The forces increased their speed and their intimidation factor; they began roaring, growling and moaning as they rushed toward the barricade. **

**Sergeant Rockfist then took over. "Second rank! Make ready!" The first rank of riflemen stepped behind the third row, while the second rank of riflemen stepped up and clicked the saftey of their weapons off. **

**Rockfist then bellowed, "Take aim!", and the row quickly aimed toward the advancing Scourge. "Fire!" Rockfist screeched, and the next row blasted into the Scourge lines. The next few rows of Scourge fell and the line came to a brief halt as the rest of the creatures scrambled over the dead. **

**This was repeated with the third rank and then with the first rank again, but after that, the Scourge were much too close to try again. Unsheathing his sword, Orman cried, "Riflemen, draw behind the lines! All soldiers, to the front!" From there, the soldiers with swords and shields marched to the front of the barricade. Crouching down, the shield-men formed a phalanax formation, with pikemen behind them, ready to intercept the Scourge as they came. **

**The Scourge kept advancing, and soon, they were upon the defenders.**

**Orman jumped to the side to dodge a blow from a skeletal soldier, who swung the sword uselessly into the ground. Acting quickly, he slashed across the neck of the soldier, who's head flew off in a blasting motion toward the scene of more chaos. Orman's soldiers were faltering and were being driven back, inch by inch, by the overwhelming numbers. All around him, soldiers were fighting hard against enemies that seemingly did not end. The right flank, commanded by Orman and Rockfist was in trouble from the overhwelming numbers. Looking towards the left flank, Orman saw a sight that astonished him:**

**Spectral, red dragon heads, floating above the left flank's battlefield. These spectral dragon heads were blasting fire toward the advancing Scourge forces, incinerating them as they walked into them seemingly unknowingly. He noticed that there were no soldiers battling the Scourge, but that the left flank was almost devoid of soldiers, having only several to stare in shocked silence while the two dragon heads incinerated any attackers that came near. Orman knew that this was the work of the magi who had accompanied the expedition, and for their efforts, he was most thankful. **

**Refocusing to the battle, Orman turned around just in time to see two zombies shuffling toward him. They moaned, clawing at him as they charged. Adopting a battle stance, he quickly rolled around to the left of the pair, and before they could respond, sliced in an arc toward their legs. **

**Quickly, the zombies went to stumble toward Orman, but found instead their legs sliding off at the knees. Moaning, the creatures collapsed to the ground amist the chaos of battle. Orman acted quickly, stabbing into the two in two thrusting motions, silencing their moans. **

**All around him, the lines were faltering. The large Abominations tore through three to four men at a time as they ripped crusaders in half. Zombies bit and hacked to death any man who fell to their grip. Skeletal captains were stabbing through attacking crusaders as they struck back. Orman knew that the lines could not hold much longer against the onslaught. But just then a guttural screaming came up from the clfifside near the beach. **

**Looking up, Orman saw blurs of leaping figures flying toward them. Angling his sword, he strained to look. They were large, with ratted clothing and large, red eyes. They were misshapen and held claws instead of hands and talons instead of feet. They growled and made roaring noises as they pounced down on hapless crusaders, tearing into their flesh and gnawing into them. "Ghouls.." Orman thought, wordlessly. **

**Frantically hacking his way through the battlefield, Rockfist cut down several skeletal soldiers blocking his way before finally being able to spy Orman, frantically fighting against two ghouls who clawed and thrusted at him, and from the looks of things his defenses were faltering. Rockfist broke into a run and pushed all of his strength foward, rushing past dying men and undead alike. He was closer to Orman, but still saw Orman falter as a ghoul tackled him to the ground. Rockfist was no more then a few inches from him, but decided to act quickly.**

**Taking out one of his throwing axes, Rockfist aimed it carefully at the ghoul on top of Orman, as Orman frantically struggled against it. Taking a deep breath, he threw it with all of his might toward the creature. **

**Orman's strength faltered as the ghoul hacked at him, his agility only being barely enough to dodge the clawed hands. Just as he thought he was doomed, the ghoul's movements stopped abruptly. Looking up, Orman saw why: An axe was implanted deep into its head and viscous fluid flowed down from the wound. The ghoul fell back and collapsed, shaking a sort of death rattle. **

**The remaining ghoul now focused its attention on Rockfist, who quickly took out his battleaxe and charged toward it, as the ghoul did also. Biting his bottom lip as he charged, he quickly angled his axe to inflict as much damage as possible to his opponent. The ghoul's claws flailed as it ran snarling toward Rockfist. Eventually, the two creatures collided in a wave of snarling and screaming fury. **

**Rockfist's battleaxe buried itself into the ghoul's neck, severing it's head as the ghoul attempted to jump onto Rockfist. The head flew off and sailed into the chaotic battle while the body spurted the vile fluids Rockfist had seen come out of the previous ghoul. Heaving and grunting with all of his might, Rockfist managed to push it off him. Spitting on the creature, he rushed toward Orman. **

**Standing up, Orman saw Rockfist had slain the other ghoul. Picking up his sword, he brushed the black fluid off his tabard as best he could. "Rockfist! Your timing is-" His speech were interrupted as he saw above him a large flame sailing over head. **

**Following it, he saw the flame flying toward the docked Scarlet ships on the coast. The flame impacted it with a thud, sending wood and splinters everywhere as the section hit lit up in flame. **

**Looking up, Orman and Rockfist both saw more and more fireballs flying toward the ships, impacting them from both sides. Peering up to their source, they found it quickly: Skeletal magi were firing them from the cliffsides. The skeletal mages were just like skeletal soldiers, but wore tattered robes instead of armor. The magi focused not on the soldiers, but on the ships; that was their plan, Orman thought. _They wanted to trap them there. _**

**Rockfist stood silent for a moment, before finally speaking. "Orman! We gotta get outta here now! We kinnae hold th' line much longer!" Rockfist's prediction was quite correct; all around them, the Scarlet lines were crumbling; the soldiers having been driven back to within several feet of the shoreline. **

**Orman nodded wordlessly, before he sighed his words. "I agree...We need to signal Admiral Westwind to send some kind of aid." Looking toward Westwind's ships, which floated in the far distance, he sighed. "There has to be a way to signal him." **

**Rockfist grinned suddenly, and held out a smaller looking rifle. "Use this, sir! It's go' an explosive musket ball. Wos a dwarven invention, o'course." **

**Nodding, Orman took it and broke into a sprint, rushing toward the shore. Reaching within several feet of the waters, he aimed the rifle upward, taking a few deep breaths before pulling the trigger, firing the rifle with a crack up into the sky. **

**There was no noticable reaction until several seconds after the shot, upon which the musket ball seemed to explode in mid air. Blinking, he grinned back to Rockfist, but found he was not there; instead, the massive wave of soldiers were falling back. Rockfist was frantically waving his hands back as row upon row of Scarlet soldiers ran frantically, tripping over one another to escape. But many of them were cut down; if not by the gargolyes who had joined the battle, then by abomination hooks, which flew several feet and speared through the chests of any crusader it found. He also saw the magi who's massive spectral dragons had helped incinerate hundreds of attackers had also been slain, as more Scourge poured in from the left flank as well.**

**Sighing, Orman looked to the waters frantically, trying to see if any form of help was coming. Soon, his frantic scanning revealed something: rowboats, well over four dozen, were frantically being paddled to shore by their controllers.**

**Grinning frantically, Orman turned around and rejoined the melee of retreating Scarlet troopers and those who were fighting the Scourge as they ran. Cutting down several ghouls, he ran up to Rockfist where he found at the dwarf's feet lay dead at least four ghouls. "Sergeant! Rowboats are on their way!" he cried harshly, upon which almost all of the crusaders could hear. **

**Rockfist grinned before firing his rifle into the crowds of Scourge mixed with retreating troopers. A groan of a ghoul was his reward. "Good! We kinnae hold them back...dunnae why they waited so long t'drive us back..seems like they're testin' us. Looks like yeh were righ' after all."**

**Nodding, Orman surveyed the situation; the rowboats had arrived and crusaders were frantically getting into them. The rowboats carried by the Crusade could hold upwards of twenty occupants, thus allowing for more people to escape. Orman shoved Rockfist, who nodded and began following him. The vast majority of the Crusaders were in retreat, frantically avoiding the now burning wrecakges of the three land-fallen ships. However, a significant minority of soldiers were still fighting the Scoruge, as they attempted to push through. Now, cannon blasts joined the fray; Westwind's guns were now in range and were aiding Orman's forces by blasting into the Scourge forces pushing on them. They also fired on the cliffside, striking down several dozen skeletal magi and ghouls alike. **

**Orman turned to rush to the rowboat which contained Rockfist and roughly a dozen other Crusaders, some of whom were wounded, but before he did, a voice surprised him from behind. **

"**Orman! Glad to see you're alright."**

**Spinning around, he found Invar, standing at the head of at least a dozen slain ghouls and skeletal soldiers. He was covered in black fluid common to the Scourge creatures, and his blade Serilas was caked in it. He still stood, however, with the characteristic grin on his face. **

"**Invar! Come on, get in the boat! We have to leave – now!" **

**Shaking his head, Invar stood at a battle stance still. "No, Orman. You go...You have to lead our people to victory. I'll stay behind with the relief forces here – we'll fight as long as we're able." Behind Invar, a small row of crusaders fought frantically with ever-shrinking numbers. **

**Shaking his head in disbelief, Orman cried, "No! You're leaving with us, now! Your life isn't worth this, is it?" **

**Invar smiled sadly. "My life's not worth anything, Orman. The Light's told me to stay – and I've chosen this. Think of it this way – at least I won't be a nuiscance to your priests now!" He grinned after finishing his sentence. **

**Orman blinked, fighting back tears. "I won't leave without you.." **

**Invar shrugged. "If you don't, you'll die here too." His face contorted into a serious look. "And I won't let you do that. You're the leader of our Crusade here, my friend. Accept it or not...but you have to live so the rest of us won't die in vain. Just promise me one thing, Orman – fight hard and don't give up." **

**Orman shed his first tears in almost a year, blinking at the unfamiliar sensation. "..I will, Invar. And I won't forget you. We all won't." With that, Orman rushed into the boat that Rockfist and the others were beckoning him to get into as the Scarlet lines crumbled. **

**The rowboat pushed out, joining the other dozens of rowboats that had already been filled. Rockfist sat, staring sadly at the ruins of what was their basecamp. But Orman could not watch the retreat, he was focused on his friend, his comrade, his brother, who stood at the shore smiling, seeming to accept his impending death. **

**As the rowboat went out to sea and the shore dissapeared from view, the last thing Orman saw of Invar-One Arm was him turning around and charging into a flood of Scourge soldiers.**

**END OF PART TWO **


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